


cardigan

by ThatOneGaySlytherin



Series: folklore [2]
Category: Love Victor (TV 2020)
Genre: Forgiveness, M/M, Making Up, Moving On, Reflection, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:48:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26436679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatOneGaySlytherin/pseuds/ThatOneGaySlytherin
Summary: "I knew you'd come back to me."~~~Slow-roasted trauma finally comes to a blazing head on a chilly autumn night.(Victor and Benji have a much needed heart-to-heart.)
Relationships: Benjamin "Benji" Campbell/Victor Salazar
Series: folklore [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1855849
Comments: 21
Kudos: 16





	cardigan

_“I knew you’d come back to me.”_

* * *

Victor’s profile glows in the firelight, his features cutting a graceful, winding slope into the inky darkness beyond.

Things have been quiet for nearly fifteen minutes now. It didn’t start as such a bad thing; the crisp night pushed in on the two boys like deft, calloused hands, cradling them with coolness. The world around them had been serene, stars giggling in the atmosphere.

Now, Benji picks at his nail beds and stares at Victor as his love cranes his neck and stares up into the sky. He can see the gears turning in Victor’s head. Things aren’t the same anymore, nor did Benji expect them to be, but there are moments like this one he still feels his blood rampaging out of the gash in his chest. Victor had done his best to stitch it together, but in the process had just reopened the wound, the edges still rough. If it wasn’t going to scar before, it surely would now.

Victor’s pulse is practically visible against the tender membrane of his slender neck, and Benji starts to ponder how blood courses so close to the surface, the tubes in our necks throbbing with life that so desperately wants to escape, to seep out into the world.

“What are you thinking about?”

Benji’s reverie crumbles; Victor is looking at him, his expression the cross-section of curiosity.

With a shrug, Benji collects himself. “Nothing specific,” he lies.

Victor just nods, his gaze locked on Benji for just another moment before he looks back to the sky.

Benji takes a deep breath and pokes at the fire. It’s died down considerably, so he reaches behind him and procures another chunk of wood, seasoned from nearly an entire year of sitting in the pile outside his home. Victor gives no indication that he’s planning on leaving any time soon, so Benji decides to throw on even one more log. In just a few minutes, the fire is roaring again.

Almost immediately, Benji regrets his choice. Now that there’s more light, the tears in Victor’s eyes seem to toss the blazing orange light in every directions, fractals of regret staining the darkness.

With a shiver, Benji clears his throat. “Are you cold?”

“No,” Victor says, though he’s trembling, his arms wrapped tight around his own body.

“You can move closer to the fire,” Benji suggests. The only seating closer to the warmth is the tiny bench that Benji has commandeered. It could fit two, though it would be tight.

Victor pulls the sleeves of his sweatshirt over his hands and hugs himself again. He won’t look Benji in the eye. That, or the stars are telling him something that Benji will never understand.

Finally, Victor rises from the upturned stump where he’d been perched and moves cautiously to Benji’s bench. Benji slides over to make room, and Victor has no choice but to lower his body right next to Benji’s, their thighs pressed together like life rafts colliding in a rip current.

They haven’t touched each other since Benji’s birthday, when a single comet of a kiss finally punctuated the run-on sentence that had cut right to Benji’s core for months, and months, and months. For a single moment, the rush of bubbling broken-dam water had sent them careening into cinematic headspaces, perfumed with forgiveness and regret and longing.

Reality set in soon after. Benji has questioned over and over whether or not he made the right choice, if seeing Victor so in pain is an indicator that he desperately meant what he said or an unjust weight that Benji now had to add to his own pile of stones. Or maybe it’s both, and what’s to be done with that?

When he turns to his left, Victor’s eyes are unfocused, tongues of flame shimmering in his irises. Heart stuttering through his chest, Benji reaches out and carefully lays a hand on top of Victor’s. For a moment, no response. Then, Victor turns his hand upside down and curls his fingers around Benji’s, the pulses in their palms racing in perfect time.

“This isn’t fair to you,” Victor says.

Benji hums and squeezes his hand. “Maybe not.”

“ _You’re_ the one who got hurt. But I can’t stop myself from going through it over and over. And I don’t want to cry anymore. I just feel like I haven’t been fully in my body since everything changed.”

He shifts closer, his knees and shins toasty from the now-roaring fire. “But you meant what you said?”

“Every word,” Victor says. He finally tears his gaze away from the dancing heat and looks at Benji. “I don’t know if I’m ever going to forgive myself for what I did.”

“You have to.”

“Why?”

“Because I have.”

Victor sighs and, to Benji’s surprise, rotates entirely and buries his face in Benji’s shoulder. Benji sucks in a shuddering gasp, the contact familiar and at the same time so foreign, so changed by what’s transpired. Victor’s body shakes against his own and he wraps one arm around his back. One of Victor’s hands has somehow ended up directly against Benji’s skin, the heel of his hand firm on Benji’s sternum.

Something cries out in the wilderness. Victor shudders and pulls himself closer. “Can I kiss you?” he whispers. The fire sings along with him. “Kiss you, kiss you, kiss you,” it hisses as the logs pop in chorus.

“Please,” says Benji.

And even though the lips are duplicitous, even though there was a period of time when it seemed every time he pressed his flesh against Victor’s he only came away with a white lie between his teeth, the hearty flames beside them has him melted to moldability and all he can do is grip the back of Victor’s sweatshirt as nose slides past nose and their lips meet. He’s tangentially aware of a tear dropping into the negative space between them and he isn’t sure if it’s his own or if it’s Victor’s, or if they even have tears separate from one another anymore.

Victor pulls away and presses his forehead against Benji’s. “I don’t know what to say to you anymore. Nothing feels like enough.”

“That will pass,” Benji murmurs. “Until it does, you don’t need to say anything.”

“Just hold you?”

“Just hold me.”

Victor pauses. His breath is warm and sweet in Benji’s face. “I don’t understand how you can be so calm about all of this. I still feel like somebody is ripping me apart from the inside every time I think about what I did.”

Though talking about it is the last thing Benji wants to do, he knows they’ll never get far if they shackle it to their legs and drag it along between them. “I always knew it wasn’t forever,” he explains.

“But how?” Victor asks. He pulls away and his eyes are so big—apologetic orbs fitted neatly into his skull.

Benji shrugs. “It was this feeling I couldn’t shake. Especially when you dropped by that one day and surprised me. I wasn’t ready to hear it, but you still said almost everything you needed to, and it confirmed everything.” His highest hopes, his darkest fears, all lain bare in the fog of alcohol on Victor’s breath.

Victor inhales a shaky breath and inserts his face back in the crook between Benji’s shoulder and jaw.

“Even when my suspicions were first growing, and even when reality became unavoidable, all I could think about was the way you used to make me feel. That feeling never really went away.” As much as he wanted it to, it clung to him like tar-black smoke, staining his under-eyes dark and burrowing into his hair follicles. Everywhere he went, it followed.

“So what do we do?” Victor asks. “We can’t just start over.”

“No. We can’t. But we can start again. I think that’s a good start.”

“I don’t deserve you,” Victor mumbles against Benji’s neck.

Benji laughs through his nose and deposits a kiss on Victor’s head, the scent of recently-washed hair flooding his cranium. “Maybe not. But you _have_ me,” Benji says, his voice nearly inaudible over the white-noise roar of the fire. “And I think you always will.”

Against all odds, Victor finds a way to move even closer. He laces his arms around Benji’s middle; his chest presses against Benji’s, then recedes as a deep breath passes his lips.

“I love you,” Victor says. “And I’m sorry. I’ll be sorry forever.”

“Can you love me forever instead?”

“I don’t think I have a choice,” Victor replies.

As the fire beside them dies, Benji feels one inside him rekindled, inner ice age finally thawing. He pulls Victor close and sneaks a glance up at the stars; Benji thinks it’s possible they’ve been rooting for him all along.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a HUGE jump in the timeline from [the 1](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25604992), just in case that wasn't clear. If you're familiar with folklore then you'll know all of the shit that happened in between the two! If not, then I am rubbing my hands together and chuckling because there's a WHOLE slew of drama on the way, and it will hit all out of order and it's gonna be FUN.
> 
> Come and follow me on [Tumblr](https://that0negayslytherin.tumblr.com/), and also, I now have a [Twitter](https://twitter.com/0negayslytherin)! :)


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